Category Archives: Parenting

Alone Together

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The Moms did not become moms by themselves.  So who are Dreamy and iDad? Which mom is married to a fellow introvert? Which mom is married to an introvert in theory but an extrovert in practice?  Read on to find out.

tiffany_head_128Not long ago I was chatting with another mom at a birthday party. After hearing how old Slim and Lunchbox are and that both Dreamy and I work outside the home, she said “Oooh, you’re in the hurt locker.” I laughed and agreed and noted this term must be employed more often in casual conversation.

The phrase rattled around in my head for awhile but, after seeing the 2008 film “The Hurt Locker,” it took on new meaning. I started thinking that, in some respects, raising children is not unlike war: it is an emotionally, intellectually, and physically unrelenting task, involving multiple explosive-laden stages (toddlerdom, teenagers), strategies (sleep and potty training, time outs) and weapons (bottles, blankets, pacifiers). If you are fortunate you have someone in your foxhole for support, a partner who has your back and will support you during the exhaustion, the frustration, and the soul-crushing fatigue. A partner who also knows your strengths and weaknesses and from whom you can learn how best to manage in combat.

Or maybe that’s just my introverted perspective. Fortunately I’ve got Dreamy in my foxhole. In many ways he is an introvert with superhero-strength extroverted abilities. He doesn’t need as much recharge time as I do, for example, and he is infinitely better at some aspects of parenting than I am. I’ve learned a great deal from him and found that implementing some of his tactics can turn a bad day into a pretty darn good one.

Some of his most helpful strategies are:

1.  Have a plan.

Dreamy recently went on a much-deserved overnight trip by himself.  This left me facing two weekend mornings — usually a war zone at our house — alone. Did I panic? No. I thought about what he would do and used preparation, one of my six introvert strengths, to organize a schedule for both days. As much as I loathe the idea of managing and organizing what is supposed to be “free” time the result was positive: two mostly happy kids and one relieved mom.

2.  Get out of the house.

Prior to marriage and family I could stay in my apartment for days with limited human interaction. My offspring, however, think staying home equals a prison sentence. Getting out is exceptionally difficult for me. Weekend mornings used to be about relaxing; now it is difficult to ignore the massive chore list that piles up during the week and shouts for attention on weekends. It is tough to silence the shouts even if it is to everyone’s benefit, particularly the kids. So on Saturday morning I ignored the chores, bundled everyone up and took them on a leaf-hunting expedition in a nearby park. We had a great time and, more importantly, no meltdowns!

3.  Wear them down.

This is a no brainer and more than a little embarrassing it has taken me so long to embrace it. Saturday’s leaf hunt also included a trail walk through the woods, playground time, and let’s-run-the-bases-at-the-ball-diamond time. The best part was we had all the facilities to ourselves, and the only two people with whom I had to interact were Slim and Lunchbox. After lunch, Lunchbox and I napped while Slim went to a playdate. Come bedtime they were out cold. WINNING.

These tactics seem so simple, so obvious, that I wonder why it has taken me so long to get with it. Probably because these activities are not the way I would choose to spend my free time. The proverbial light bulb clicked on, however, and I understood that this weekend wasn’t my time, it was our time. So, check, get over myself and put the kids first. Fortunately I was able to take a few small, marginally restorative breaks.

I suppose my motivation to make this solo weekend different also stems from Dreamy’s last mini-break. When he came home I was angry, exhausted, and emotionally fried. That’s a combination of ugly to which no one should be exposed, especially those whom I hold most dear. What’s that saying about those who fail to learn from the past? Something about being doomed to repeat it?

Overall the weekend turned out well (minus the epic fail that Sunday morning turned to be, but that’s another story) and reminded me that as parents we should constantly be observing others and learning new skills. And sometimes the person with the very best lessons to teach happens to be hunkered down in the foxhole right next to you.

— Tiffany

KathyYou will probably not be surprised to hear that iDad loves computers. He also loves playing music, reading, watching movies, sleeping, and anything that has to do with water. He can go for hours happily immersed in his own world. In other words, he’s a fellow introvert.

I know that often introverts will pair up with extroverts, the whole “opposites attract” thing. And we are opposite in certain ways (me + water = no), but I’m happy I live with someone who doesn’t need to be with me 24/7, who knows I’m not offended when he wants to do his own thing.

Still, parenting with an introvert is trickier than being married to one. I feel like iDad is constantly bailing me out — taking over at the end of the day when Doodlebug was tiny, stepping in nowadays when I need to retreat after an outing. He’s so conscientious about my time that I sometimes worry he’s left holding the bag when I can’t take another minute.

He says he doesn’t feel that way, though, and I think it partly has to do with our different socializing styles. I push myself to stay on for the entire time I’m with other people, while iDad is much more comfortable taking mini-breaks to read a magazine, play some music, or just retreat into the kitchen (even if it’s someone else’s!) for a snack. So even if we spend all day extroverting, he’s grabbing time to himself throughout. I could stand to borrow some of these strategies.

Plus, as we discovered with the HSP survey, certain situations are in fact more draining for me than for him. So maybe I shouldn’t feel guilty if I need to take my time right away, as long as I make sure he has some time to himself later.

Probably the trickiest thing to negotiate since becoming parents has been the balance between family time, couple time, and alone time. Sometimes, with everyone (Doodlebug included) happy to go their separate ways, the three of us don’t spend a lot of time together. Even family time can be draining for me — it’s different now that Doodlebug is older, but there are still plenty of nights when all I want to do is be by myself once she’s asleep.

Now that iDad and I both work at home, though, we have a little more flexibility. We can sneak out to a movie during the day. We can all ride bikes together one afternoon and then he and I can catch up on work that evening. We can eat lunch together if we want. Or near each other, reading separate books. Can’t get much more introverted than that!

— Kathy

Just Saying No

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To paraphrase Mr. T, pity the introvert who signs up to be room parent. It’s that time of year again — read on to find out how the Moms handle those nonstop requests to volunteer at school.

KathyOn Monday afternoon I was chatting with another mom on the playground. “Are you going to be room parent again?” she innocently asked me. “You did such a good job last year.”

I’m pleased to report I did not run away screaming.

Here I must note that TEACHERS ARE AWESOME. I’m a teacher’s kid, and I absolutely understand how much time, work, and love the job requires. I want to support Doodlebug’s teachers and her school, and I have the flexibility in my schedule to do so. I like getting to know her classroom, the other kids, and her teachers.

But. But but but.

I learned last year that being room parent is a terrible fit for me and my personality. Doodlebug’s class actually had three room parents, but I ended up being the lead, which meant I:

  • Attended several PTA meetings.

  • Sent countless emails, only some of which were answered.

  • Collected and managed the funds for class parties and teacher gifts.

  • Planned and executed said parties.

  • Came up with ideas for and purchased said gifts.

  • Spearheaded our class’s Teacher Appreciation Week efforts, which included cards, flowers, and food.

  • Participated in a snowman t-shirt stamping extravaganza.

  • Helped 24 seven-year-olds tie-dye t-shirts.

  • Presented flowers to the music teachers after the play.

  • Made Valentine’s Day cupcakes, decorated melted snowman water bottles, and did something for Halloween that I’ve mercifully blocked out of my mind.

  • Procured bags and bags of candy for a gingerbread-house-making-fest.

Actually, now that I look at the list, I see a very clear breakdown of things I enjoy vs. things that make me want to hide in a dark room. Anything where I got to play with sugar was fun. Anything where I was with a group of kids for more than 15 minutes, not so much. Meetings, no. Organizing other people, dealing with money, paint? No, no, NO!

So I politely told the playground mom that I’d be taking this year off instead of screaming “Never again!” There are other, more introvert-friendly ways to volunteer at school.

  • Help stuff the kids’ take-home folders.

  • Make copies for the teacher.

  • Bring coffee and/or snacks to teachers or office staff.

  • Bake treats for parties.

  • Send in paper products for parties.

  • Volunteer to pick up teacher gifts, flowers (no presenting!).

  • Shop for supplies for crafts.

  • Send in money/t-shirts/other supplies when room parents ask. (Note for parents who aren’t able to help in the classroom – this is so much more important than you think! I was grateful for each and every person who sent in funds. And it was a huge help when people remembered to send in materials for craft projects.)

So this year will be different. At Back-to-School Night, I walked by the table full of volunteer sign-up sheets and didn’t put my name down for a single job. I’m going to wait and see what opportunities come up during the year, and I’m only going to choose ones I’m excited about.

NO TIE-DYE!

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I have no time to volunteer. So I write checks. And respond in a timely fashion to PTA or teacher requests. And bake when I can. That’s all the mental energy I’ve got, people.

Don’t get me wrong. I love teachers and I admire and respect parents who provide material and physical support by organizing and leading activities. But I don’t think I am one of those parents. Even if I did have time would I volunteer for classroom activities? I like the idea of volunteering at school but let’s be real here: ONE seven-year old wears me out. A room full of seven year olds? Um. Would I get a week by myself in Bali to recover? Could I volunteer to reshelve books in the library after school hours? Because that’s about my speed.

I want to support Princess Slim as much as possible, of course, but for me, right now,  support means creating a home environment conducive to learning, emphasizing the importance of reading, feeding her healthy food, and making sure she gets enough sleep. And by loving her to bits for who she is. If I contribute bake sale brownies made from a box instead of from scratch it doesn’t mean I support her any less, nor does it mean I’m an inferior parent. This is what I can do right now. And you know what? Seven year olds can’t tell the difference between boxed and homemade anyway!

You’d think this would cause an Instaguilt™ flare-up. Fortunately it doesn’t thanks to plenty of therapy and the ability to say no;  in fact, the necessity of saying no. If you have a difficult time with the latter this article offers a quick and easy tutorial. I find the idea of a Resentment Journal delicious. Oh, the pages I could fill…

I make kick-ass from-scratch brownies, however. Just so you know.

— Tiffany

Summer Campin’

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School is in session and summer is over.  How did the Moms cope?

We think the song “Summer Nights’” from “Grease” pretty much sums it up.  With some amended lyrics, of course.

Summer campin’, it’s hot outside

There were days when everyone cried

                                                “Too much art!” our sweet girls said

Next year maybe something different instead?

Summer’s done, we had some fun

But uh oh, that tricky downtime… 

tiffany_head_128“Nature is NOT fun Mommy and this is ALL YOUR FAULT!” Princess Slim shouted and pointed to her filthy legs and dirt-caked shoes. She marched into the bathroom and slammed the door. Nature Fun Camp was apparently not so fun.

Cue hot tears in my eyes and lump in my throat. And cue a little something I call Instaguilt™, one of the unexpected and unpleasant side effects of being a mother. Instaguilt™ is rampant in mothers who work outside the home and occurs primarily whenever the school nurse calls and during drop-off or pick-up times of day.  Symptoms include feeling absolutely shredded about leaving or collecting offspring at or from camp/day care/school/Somewhere Else and an endless cycle of self-recrimination regarding career and life choices. No known treatment exists.

Instaguilt™ aside, this summer was an experiment for Princess Slim, and, by default, for our family. If you recall from the Lazy, Hazy post, we signed Slim up for a variety of camps as opposed to sending her to one place for the entire break. Yes, this meant lots of juggling for Dreamy and me as we had to constantly rework commuting arrangements; thankfully Kathy and iDad supported us during weeks in which extended care wasn’t available.

The larger issue was my major anxiety about how all this change would affect Princess Slim. All in all I think she did ok and seemed to enjoy herself at most of the places she went (note to self:  no nature camp next year). Of the 11 total weeks off she was in camp for eight, and four of those weeks she went to camps along with BFF Doodlebug. Slim had other friends at the camps Doodlebug didn’t attend and was thus never in a position where she didn’t know anyone.

Slim also had two weeks off for trips to the farm and beach, respectively, a few days with me, and two days of mornings with a neighborhood sitter and afternoons with Dreamy. By the time the last camp finished, however, Slim was definitely over it and ready for some unstructured down time.

We learned a few things as a result.  First, Slim and Doodlebug will tandem camp again next summer. It eased Slim’s jitters (and my guilt) knowing friends were around even if the physical location was new. Second, we have a better idea of what types of activities Slim likes, so when registration time rolls around we can make more informed choices. Finally, at seven years old one should be able to go see a movie in the middle of the day or read a book or go to the pool. It’s called “relaxing” and we need to do more of it. Thus we now know that taking a camp time-out here and there is necessary and, more importantly, good for her.

I realized this while watching her practice cartwheels on the beach. Could she be my introvert after all?

Cue hot tears in eyes, lump in throat.

— Tiffany

Kathy

Overall, this summer was . . . okay. I know, that’s hardly a ringing endorsement, but in comparison to years past, I’ll take it.

What worked:

  • Block scheduling. Our decision to group Doodlebug’s camps together in a five-week chunk (with a week off in the middle) worked out so well that I think we’ll be doing camps that way from now on. I liked having those weeks of structured time grouped together, and Doodlebug had plenty of time before and after the block to just chill out. I think she enjoyed the change of pace during the camp weeks.

  • Pool time. Doodlebug and iDad spent many afternoons there, with friends and on their own. Since our school playground was being replaced over the summer, this was key for making sure Doodlebug stayed active. And since I didn’t usually (okay, ever) go along, it was a good, consistent source of me time. Everybody wins!

  • Having buddies. New rule: Doodlebug must always know someone at camp. Having Princess Slim as a partner in crime made those weeks much more fun (although I’m not sure how much the counselors loved this arrangement!). Aside from camp, we lucked out when our good friends who usually spend summers away decided to stay home this year. Lots of playdates, lots of ice cream!

What didn’t:

  • Work. I’m writing a novel, and I had big plans to take a break from it at the beginning of the summer (the hanging-out phase) and come back to it, refreshed and inspired, once Doodlebug started her camps. But then I signed up for a revision workshop, which meant I had to finish and submit my draft a few weeks after school got out. Calling those weeks stressful would be putting it mildly.

After that, I was supposed to leave the manuscript alone for a month, a month which included two weeks of camp. My plan to focus on other writing projects during those weeks was derailed by a nasty cold that turned into pinkeye. Not recommended!

  • Unstructured time. A summer day can be very long.  This is great when you’re seven, because you can fit in drawing AND reading AND playing with ponies AND watching TV. Doodlebug really needed those low-key days, but it was hard for me to let things unfold completely on her schedule. I wanted to give her time to do her own thing, but I wanted to be available if she wanted to do something together. Since I never knew which it was going to be, I spent a lot of time on little projects but never accomplished much. Those files in the basement, the ones I never organized when we moved in three years ago? Still a disaster.

Another facet to this is that I just plain don’t like not being in control of my time. I wish I could say that a few lazy summer days helped me let go of that a little, but they didn’t. What did work was (wait for it) having more control! Since we’re lucky enough to have iDad working at home, at the beginning of each day we set up a time when I would be off-duty for an hour or two. That helped immensely, and if we’re both still at home for future summers we’ll make sure to stick with that system.

But I’m interested to know how other parents handle this, especially people without backup. Do you set a schedule for together time vs. alone time when you know you’ll be home all day? Do you just resign yourself to the fact that you won’t get as much done over the summer? If you do feel like you’ve found a good balance, I’d love to know your strategies! Because there’s always next summer…

— Kathy

Who Are You Calling Sensitive?

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Pop quiz, hotshot — are you a Highly Sensitive Person? Psychologist Elaine Aron has found that about one in five people have extra-sensitive nervous systems. She’s also found that around 70% of HSPs are introverts. Take her self-test and find out if you qualify, and read on to see how the Moms scored.

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KathyWhen I took the Highly Sensitive Person quiz, I had the kind of “Ohhhh!” moment a lot of people seem to have when they read Quiet. Now I’m realizing it’s not just that I get drained after being with people (because I’m an introvert), but that too much stimulation of any kind (activity, noise, touch, taste, smell) can also do me in.

Now let’s see, what things in my life might have that combination?

Oh right, parenting.

I think it helps explain why the baby phase was so overwhelming for me, with the lack of sleep, hormone insanity, and sharp increase in physical contact all packed into such a short time. I think it solves the mystery of why I rarely wanted music on in the house for the first few years of Doodlebug’s life. I think it reinforces my policy of shopping on my own, without Doodlebug, as much as possible.

It helps me understand my family dynamic better, because when I asked iDad to take the quiz for himself, he only checked a few boxes. Now I get why he doesn’t need to hide in a dark room after a day at the kite festival or a trip to the pool.

And it helps me be a better parent to Doodlebug, because when I did the kids’ version of the quiz for her, she seemed to fall into many of the categories as well. Even before I’d heard the term HSP I’d learned to be highly sensitive to her sensitivity – I watch for signs that she’s getting overwhelmed, I build downtime into her day, and (when possible) I don’t push her to do more than she can.

In her book The Highly Sensitive Person, Aron repeatedly points out that being highly sensitive is a two-sided coin – we notice more, but it affects us more quickly. So fine, I won’t ever be the kind of parent who can take her kid on nonstop wild, crazy adventures and come back for more. But if I can help Doodlebug realize what situations are overwhelming for her and why, and help her think of strategies to handle them, then that sounds pretty important to me.

Plus I have a really good argument for why iDad should handle all future Chuck E. Cheese birthday party duties. HaHA!

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128Princess Slim and Señor Lunchbox are suddenly into the “Toy Story” franchise.  We recently watched “Toy Story 3”  and holy shit, y’all. This is probably the most disturbing kid’s movie I have seen in a long time. It seemed to me an unpleasant and frankly scary mashup of George Orwell’s book 1984 and the more sinister aspects of the 1963 film “The Great Escape.” Not to mention Big Baby reminded me of  Pinhead and that damn clapping monkey is straight out of a Stephen King’s short story published in 1985. Had I realized these images and themes were in the film we never would have watched it. The larger question, however, is why did this movie upset me so much? Particularly the part where the toys are sliding down towards the incinerator towards a potentially fiery doom. Seriously, Pixar. Not cool.

Upon further reflection I observed that for many years I have consciously avoided super-violent books, movies, and television shows. The associated imagery is simply too upsetting and difficult to process. OK, you say. So what?

When Kathy first told me about the “Highly Sensitive Person” quiz I was skeptical. I re-read the portions of Susan Cain’s book Quiet dealing with this area of research. Still, I didn’t completely buy it. Then I took the quiz.

Well, duh.

Suddenly my aversion to violent media made more sense. So does my sensitivity to caffeine, general jumpiness (don’t ever jump out of a closet at me.  EVER.), and a whole host of other personality traits. All combined I’m pretty much the textbook definition of a HSP. I took the children’s quiz also and so far Princess Slim possesses a few of the HSP traits; Señor Lunchbox demonstrates some as well, but honestly, his personality is still cooking and I swear he’s a different creature from one minute to the next.

Parenting and all its sights, smells, and sounds is therefore clearly a body slam to HSPs, particularly during the first few years.  Dr. Aron’s resources, however, have already helped me to recognize and, more importantly, to manage these traits in myself and the kids. Corny as it may sound, the quizzes have enabled me to get to know them a bit better, and even a basic awareness of these characteristics can shorten a tantrum or soothe a hurt. Further, this article reminds and helps HSP parents play to their strengths.

These little tidbits are also yet another reminder to pay attention to yourself. If you are overwhelmed, frazzled, or fried by someone else’s anxiety unfortunately for HSPs all this trickles down to your kids, who can see and sense it just like mini-clairvoyants. Stop, breathe, and find some quiet. Things will settle if you allow yourself time to recover.

And for me, recovery includes deleting “Toy Story 3” off the DVR.

— Tiffany

Write It Out

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The Moms like to write.  Duh.  But how does writing help in the parenting department?

Tiffany Confession time:  I babble when nervous.  Gaps in conversation make me uncomfortable and as a result, I prattle.  On and on until I can extract myself from the situation.  I will change the subject six or seven times, pepper people with inane questions, or blurt out something marginally inappropriate and usually profane.

While I am perfectly content with silence (oh, hell, I CRAVE it, who are we kidding?) when alone or with a few carefully selected friends, larger groups of people or social events cause me to quake with fear on the inside.  Numerous times during these interactions I find myself thinking, “Couldn’t I just write you all an email?”

Introverts like to write.  It is easy to see why:  writing allows time to process and construct responses and to reflect upon the interaction itself and any resulting feelings or ideas.  For me writing is a quiet, solitary activity.  Writing also serves as an ordering exercise and allows for the mental arrangement of a tiny portion of the endless stimuli with which I am bombarded.  It can take the form of a simple list to a free-form exercise describing the overwhelmingness of everyday life or how happy a pair of well-fitting pants makes me feel.  These things, in aggregate, calm me down and permit a return to center, if you will.  Oh, the power of a blank piece of paper and a pencil.

And believe it or not, I think an affinity for writing makes me a better mom.  Obviously there are many, many situations with small children that do not allow time to formulate a considered response (example:  Señor Lunchbox.  Every.  Damn.  Day.).  As Princess Slim has matured, however, we’ve had some great conversations during which I’ve been able to offer more considered and thoughtful responses to the changing nature of her questions.  Writing has undoubtedly trained me to think this way.

I hope writing will bolster our mother-daughter relationship during the tumultuous teen years when she hates me and doesn’t want to acknowledge my existence.  That can all be fixed with a funny note or email, right?  

– Tiffany

KathyPoking my head in after a week away at a writing workshop to say I AGREE, both on the importance of writing for introverts and the sad lack of opportunities to gather one’s thoughts while wrangling little kids. One of the toughest things for me as a parent is having to fly by the seat of my pants so often.

But, like Tiffany, I hope that will change as Doodlebug gets older. Long ago I wrote down the title of this book, a journal for moms and daughters to write together. It looks like it’s aimed at tweens, and I think it will be great to have not only a place where we can “talk” without being face to face but also a method of communication that will allow me to marshal my thoughts and my reasoning ahead of time.

You wouldn’t even have to use a true diary, any notebook would do. And Doodlebug and I both looooove pretty notebooks. I might just have to raid my stash and get us started sooner rather than later. Maybe today!

– Kathy

 

 

Book Review: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain

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KathyHi all, welcome to our first book review! We wanted to share some of the books we’re reading as we explore our roles as introverted parents, and we’re starting with Susan Cain. You’ve probably heard about her book: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.

If you know me in real life, you’ve definitely heard about this book because I won’t stop telling people about it.

 

quiet2_smallerThis is my copy. I think it’s safe to say it spoke to me.

 

Overview:

There’s a reason the title starts off with “Quiet” and not “Introverts” – Cain isn’t a psychologist (she’s a lawyer-turned-writer) and she’s exploring more than just the strict definition of introversion as a personality trait. She’s also looking at a group of traits that are often connected, including being risk-averse, introspective, shy. These types of people, and their strengths, are often overlooked in American society, Cain argues. She traces the rise of what she calls the Extrovert Ideal, pointing out ways our society prizes gregarious, assertive, bold, LOUD people.

Through profiles of famous (and not-so-famous) introverts, examinations of different psychological theories, and an exploration of the connection between solitude and creativity, Cain gives introverts permission to be themselves. Being an introvert isn’t just okay, she tells us. It’s important.

 

Why Introverts Should Read This Book:

So you can say “So there!” to everyone who’s ever told you you’re too quiet. Just kidding. Kind of. I’ve heard about so many people who feel empowered by this book, who didn’t even realize that being an introvert was normal. And even though I already knew my personality type, it never hurts to be reminded that, no, our society really is not geared toward people like me. If I feel out of step sometimes, that’s why, not because I’m doing something wrong.

Other takeaways: Introverts and extroverts need different levels of outside stimulation, and I like Cain’s idea of “sweet spots” – figuring out your just-right level and seeking out experiences that fit. She also makes the point that even introverts need to keep adjusting, which explains why I can sometimes get stir-crazy on a Sunday afternoon at the end of a laid-back weekend.

For me, Cain’s discussion of Elaine Aron’s research on highly sensitive people was eye-opening. Not all introverts are highly sensitive, but I think I do fall into this category. It’s giving me insight into why I get overwhelmed so much more quickly than iDad, even though we’re both introverts. Expect more banging on about this one from me in the future!

 

Why Extroverts Should Read This Book:

To get a better idea about how the other one-third to one-half of the population lives. I think this book should be required reading for extroverted managers and teachers, or for any extrovert who’s in charge of a group of people.

Cain also examines the benefits of working solo – turns out creativity is harder to come by in a group environment. Many introverts already know this (group projects, blech!), but it’s startling to see how our schools and our workplaces have embraced what Cain has named the “New Groupthink”. I read here that she’s working on a curriculum to help teachers reach introverts in the classroom, and I think that’s a fantastic idea.

 

Why Parents Should Read This Book:

If you’re raising an introvert, Chapter 11 of Quiet is for you. While Cain encourages parents to enjoy their kids for who they are, she also has great tips for helping them feel more confident and comfortable in this overstimulating world of ours. Don’t throw your kid into a new situation with a “She’ll be fine!” attitude, help her find ways to get used to things at her own pace. Check out a new place ahead of time if possible, arrive early, don’t push. And, instead of criticizing your child for acting shy, praise her when she stretches herself.

Parents, too, should carefully read the sections about school. I am not (NOT!) encouraging helicopter parenting, but it’s worth considering whether your kid’s classroom environment is geared more toward extroverts. At Doodlebug’s school, I was surprised to find that her first grade class didn’t use desks — the kids sat at tables together like they did in kindergarten.

There’s a great list of factors to consider if you’re in a position to choose a school for your kids (Small classes? Anti-bullying program? Subjects or extracurriculars your child is drawn to?). But Cain has good suggestions for helping your kids thrive at any school. Also, she makes the excellent point that your introverted child might need time to decompress at the end of the day, so give them time to do that before you start peppering them with questions. You just might get more info out of them that way.

 

Bonus materials:

Cain gave a TED talk in 2012 that touches on the main points in her book. Definitely worth 20 minutes of your time.

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So have you read Quiet? What did you think? I’ve started leaving my copy in our guest room – maybe all our visitors will pick it up and learn something about themselves (or about a favorite introvert). Muahahaha!

–Kathy

Downtime Abbey

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The Moms love their Downton Abbey, especially the Dowager Countess of Grantham (mostly because of quotes like this).  But when you don’t have a Mrs. Hughes, a Mrs. Patmore, or an Anna Bates, downtime can be difficult to come by.  When the Moms do find a few free moments, how do they decide what to do with them?

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kathy_crayon_256I miss naps. It’s been more than three years since Doodlebug dropped hers, but I still think of them fondly. They were a guaranteed hit of free time for me during the day, and they were guilt-free. Little kids need lots of sleep to grow up happy and healthy. I’m not sure the same can be said of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, my current go-to.

Still, naps were not a perfect system. I never knew if I was going to get three hours or forty-five minutes, which made it hard to plan my time. And Baby Doodlebug seemed to have some kind of reading radar that signaled her to wake up the second I tried to sit down with a book. There were many days when I’d putter around, being productive, for two hours and when I finally took a minute to relax, boom, she’d wake up.

So I developed a simple rule for my free time: Do the most important thing first. “Most important” can mean whatever you need it to mean – maybe everyone is out of underwear and you have got to throw in a load of laundry. Great, do it. If you are covered in spit-up and various other bodily fluids, grab that shower. If you’re hungry, always eat first. If you don’t, you will end up with a baby in one hand and a sandwich in the other. I dripped a lot of condiments on Doodlebug before I figured that one out.

But it’s always been easy, too easy, to get wrapped up in all the stuff I have to do and run out of time for what I really need to do with my downtime, which is recharge. Last week iDad was out of town, which meant I was on for that long, long stretch from school pick-up to bedtime. But still, on the occasions when Doodlebug was happily playing on her own, I had to remind myself over and over to choose to stop, to slow down, to just sit with a magazine instead of rushing on to the next chore.

As we go into summer and my blocks of downtime again become shorter and unpredictable, I need to remember that sometimes the most important thing to attend to is myself. I can always start a load of laundry after Doodlebug goes to bed. Nothing bad will happen if I ignore those papers on my desk for one more day.

Even if I only have twenty minutes, sometimes the best thing really is just watching our crazy backyard chipmunks race around, or, yes, sitting down and reading an entire chapter of a book. I will be a happier mom if I take that time. Do the most important thing first.

– Kathy

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Downtime is in short supply at our house.  While I cannot speak 100% for Dreamy I wager that he does not, in fact, get enough time to himself.  I am certain I don’t due largely to the superhuman (or “stupid human” on grouchy days) demands of commuting, mommying, and working.  Downtime is such a scarcity I’ve had to come up with a few tactics and strategies to help cope.

The first is something I like to call Compressed Introversion (“CI” for future reference). CI is essentially small pockets of time carved out during the day in which I am consciously doing something — walking to the car to pick up Señor Lunchbox or washing my face before bed —  but in reality I am checked out and in my own world.  It’s weird, I know, but it works.

Now, I’m not so oblivious that I would walk in front of a bus or use toothpaste as facial cleanser; rather I am thinking quiet thoughts and being mindful of my surroundings: listening to the birds chatter in the trees or enjoying the warm water as it splashes my face. Other folks have different names for this tactic, I’m sure, but by calling it CI I am able to play a mini-Jedi mind trick on myself and satisfy my need for a few minutes of interior quiet.

The second strategy is based on a question:  “What can’t I do when everyone is around?”  I can’t, for example, sit down and read.  I also cannot organize stuff, watch a show, take a bath, or exercise (ha — cue Alicia Silverstone’s Cher in “Clueless:”  “AS IF!”) with three other people in the house.  So I do these things when Dreamy thankfully takes Slim and Lunchbox to the park or the pool or on errands.

Anaïs Nin said, “When I cannot bear outer pressures anymore, I begin to put order in my belongings…As if unable to organize and control my life, I seek to exert this on the world of objects.”  True to Ms. Nin’s wise words, if given a bit of time to step back and maybe impose some order (or maybe just lie on the couch and catch up with the Dowager Countess) I usually feel refreshed and revived.

This was a difficult lesson to learn.  Ignoring full laundry baskets or a sinkful of dirty dishes is not easy.  But you know what?  I can deal with those tasks while everyone in the house. Sometimes, however, I feel selfish and guilty and that I should be listening to the nagging, needling inner voice that says YOU ARE A MOTHER AND YOU ARE ON, SISTER!

Fortunately I’ve gotten a lot better at telling that voice to STFU.

– Tiffany

 

The Crazy, Hazy (But Definitely Not Lazy) Days of Summer

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DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince got it right in “Summertime”:

School is out and it’s a sort of a buzz

But back then I didn’t really know what it was

But now I see what have of this

The way that people respond to summer madness 

These months present challenges for parents everywhere.  School ends, schedules are disrupted, and madness can ensue.  How do the Introverted Moms cope?

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Summer is no big deal to Señor Lunchbox.  He will wake up and go to school.  This is good because he desperately needs a structured environment.  Dreamy and I will wake up and go to work.  This is good because we need to keep our jobs.  Princess Slim will, on the other had, wake up and go somewhere new every week.  For her this summer will be one of constant adjustment to new routines, new places, and new people.  She bears the brunt of summer insanity, and it breaks my heart.

Princess Slim is signed up for seven — SEVEN — different camps this summer and I have two weeks left to fill.  Really hoping to draft some grandparents into service so the poor girl can sleep in late and have some down time once in awhile.  Guilt isn’t my thing, but  booking her into all these activities has made me feel guiltier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.  Why?

Some of it is undoubtedly tied up with childhood memories of long stretches of unstructured time and the exhilarating sense of freedom felt upon finishing the school year.  Perhaps I need to let go of my expectations for these months and acknowledge my anxiety stems from the fact that I want summers back, the kind with long days and seemingly limitless choices.  These experiences were critical to my development, I think, and I desperately want Slim and Lunchbox to have these same types of opportunities.

As Kathy mentioned to me, however, these kinds of summers “aren’t possible any more for us.” And let’s be real:  even if I did have summers off I would still be looking for things to do with the kids, who most likely would not want to sit around and read all day.  Hello, adulthood calling.  Responsibility on lines one and two.  There is no going back, only forward, and I can’t let unrealistic expectations mess up my head.

The other guilt-inducing part is murkier.  As a mother, isn’t it my job to spend time with my kids? I find it impossible to reconcile my roles as Mom and Working Mom during the summer months.   My job is deathly quiet in the summer but I still have to show up and appear to be working even though I’d much rather be goofing off with Slim.

These thoughts hurl me into an ugly insecurity spiral:  what the hell are my priorities? Why do we live in an area where two incomes are required?  Kids are only young once, you know, and you are fracking it. all. up.  Why did you even have kids if you can’t spend time with them?  You are a terrible mother.

Ugh.  A solution must exist.  It may be as simple as taking a vacation day once every few weeks and declaring it “Slim and Mom” time.  It might be as complicated as changing careers (anybody need an English teacher?  I have no experience or certification but I sure do love words and books!).  This isn’t coping at all; it’s a mess. And I don’t like it one bit.

— Tiffany

Kathy

I’m not very good at summer. I’m not talking about the heat, the humidity, the bugs, the sand, or the sunscreen, although I’m no good at them, either. I’m talking about the vast expanses of unstructured time.

This is pretty ironic, because, as an introvert, I’m all about the unstructured time. I need it, I crave it. If I had 10 weeks to myself… sorry, my head just exploded.

But managing Doodlebug’s summer is one of my biggest challenges as a parent. It’s gotten easier – iDad was still working in an office when she was small, so I basically resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t get any writing done until preschool started again in September. Now that he works at home we have much more flexibility, but it’s still complicated.

How much of Doodlebug’s time should be completely open? If we sign her up for camp, will she hate it? (Still smarting from the Art Camp Debacle of ’12.) When can she see her friends, who are all on different home/camp/vacation schedules? Do we get to take a vacation? When will iDad and I work? And how will I fit in my own downtime?

The last one, of course, is where I always get tripped up. As a kid, summer was a time for slowing down — sleeping in, reading, taking a break from the social pressures of school and being by myself for a change. But now that I’m a mom, summer is exactly when things ramp up. I feel like Doodlebug’s social director, carefully planning enough fun to keep her entertained but not over-committed.

We spend more time together, which is wonderful. During the school year, we only get about six hours of Doodlebug time a day. Most of that is rushing through our schedule, trying to hit our targets: breakfast, dropoff, pickup, dinner, homework, bedtime. I don’t miss that craziness. But that doesn’t change the fact that summer, with more emphasis on my Mom role, is draining for me.

I know, from past summers, that certain things do not work. Wide-open days with nothing planned? Cranky mom, cranky kid. Swapping half-work days with iDad? The blocks of time were too short to accomplish much, and we never spent time as a family. Vacation here, camp there, free week in between? No routine, and I thrive on routine (so do kids, I hear). Playground playdate + picnic lunch + berry picking + pool? After two days of that I would need a week off to recover.

So here’s what we’re trying this year. The first part of our summer is pretty open. We have one mini trip scheduled, and Doodlebug will be spending some long weekends with her grandparents (thank you, grandparents!). But when she’s home I will plan morning activities, either playtime with friends or excursions with me and/or iDad.

I want us to be home in the afternoons, though, and we’re going to try an after-lunch family reading time. Stealth school skills for Doodlebug, downtime for me. iDad is our pool parent, so hopefully they can fit in some water time in the late afternoons. More downtime for me. And if all else fails I will have my precious evening time.

Then comes the camp phase – Doodlebug and Princess Slim are signed up for four weeks of camp together, which I hope will solve the “But I don’t have any friennnnnds there!” issue from summers past. And I’m also hoping that grouping the camps in a block will let me get in several good weeks of writing. Taking that month-long break beforehand will give me a chance to organize my thoughts about my novel. Or so I’m telling myself.

After the camps we’ll have a family vacation and then one totally free week before school starts. I want to keep this as open as possible, both to give Doodlebug a chance to transition back to the school year schedule and to give us time to eat plenty of ice cream. I will let you know how it goes…

— Kathy

Ch-ch-changes

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KathyThe transition from no baby to new baby can be a bumpy one for lots of reasons, but some of them are unique to introverts. In no particular order:

People will come over to your house. This is good, truly it is. Other people! People who don’t wear diapers or spit up on you. People who can communicate with words instead of shrieks. Sometimes they even bring you food, which is excellent.

But if you’re like me, your house is sort of your private sanctuary. It’s not the place where all the neighbors come and hang out. Certainly not while you’re trying to figure out how to feed a tiny person with food you’ve made with your own body. That was weird. But just know that the visiting phase doesn’t last forever. And that it’s perfectly fine not to answer if someone calls or rings the doorbell. Um, not that I ever did this.

Your baby will probably want to be held a lot. Babies just do. Doodlebug definitely did, and it was a big change to go from normal human contact to nearly-nonstop, 24/7 human contact.

So trade off with your spouse whenever you can. This is also where the visitors can come in handy – let your friend hold the baby while you take a shower. Let your mother-in-law try out the baby wrap you haven’t even gotten a chance to open yet. (Side note: if babywearing is not your thing, that is OKAY.) And if your baby refuses to be held by anyone but you, read on. Tiffany feels your pain.

Introverts are not good at switching gears or leaving a project before they’ve finished with it. Guess what – you will have to do that all the time with a baby (and with older kids, too).

Since I was at home with Doodlebug, it was vital for me to have “off-the-clock” time where someone else was in charge and I could set my own pace. At first it was just a twenty-minute trip to the grocery store, alone, while my mom babysat. Later it was going to the library to write while Doodlebug and iDad hung out for the afternoon. Family is great. Babysitters are great. Preschool is great. School is really, really great.

Moms’ groups. They’re everywhere – at the hospital, in your neighborhood, for nursing moms, for working moms, etc etc. I tried to embrace the concept, really I did, but it was just not me. I didn’t want to go and be with people I barely knew when I was already busy with my baby, who I barely knew! So I will go ahead and say that you do not have to join a moms’ group.

Having mom friends is key, though – I spent a ton of time with one friend whose son is a few months younger than Doodlebug, and that was just right for me. Plus, now there’s Facebook and Twitter, which can function as your own virtual moms’ group from the comfort of your own home. And, of course, you know you are always welcome here.

On the blog. Not at my house. If you ring the doorbell, I reserve the right to pretend I’m not home.

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I definitely believe introverts have a more difficult time adjusting to motherhood. In my case I am fairly certain one of the after effects of giving birth was a bad case of agoraphobia, particularly after Señor Lunchbox arrived.

Señor Lunchbox had acid reflux and slept in roughly 20 minute blocks the first months of his life (no, really.  I timed them).  Everybody was tired but as the parent on maternity leave my primary job was to take care of him.    It took ages for us to figure out the reflux situation, get the proper medication, and for it to start working.  He finally began sleeping better.

When he was awake, however, it was Mommy or nothing. Not Dreamy, not a bouncy seat or special pillow or sling or swing or any of those “soothe your newborn” gadgets. If I put him down to eat, he screamed, and if I dared to pee or just wanted to have my arms back for a few minutes, he screamed. The lack of physical space was smothering and became increasingly difficult to manage. I didn’t love Señor Lunchbox any less but there were days when I wondered how I was going to make it through. Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I did.

There were other reasons I stuck close to home. Both Princess Slim and Señor Lunchbox are summer babies and it was boiling hot in the weeks after they were born. On cool mornings I would take them out but only for a quick stroller-spin around the block or to lounge on the patio.

Also, after Señor Lunchbox was born, Dreamy took the Good Car to work and I had the Beater Car. I love the Beater but it has half an airbag and dodgy air conditioning. I didn’t feel exactly secure about placing a newborn in the back seat, hopping on the highway, and hoping for the best. And where would I have gone, exactly? The mall to look at clothes I couldn’t fit in to? A library or museum with a howling, projectile-vomiting baby? No, thanks.

Now I realize my inability to leave the house wasn’t really about the heat, or the car; had I wanted to go out I could have made something work. The real issue was my non-existent energy level. Monitoring one’s energy level is critical to introvert self-care, and mine was so low that I simply could not deal with the stress of being around other people. One tiny person consumed every bit of emotional, mental, and physical energy I had. “We’re on vapor, Cougar,” from the movie “Top Gun” pretty much sums it up. I was the next smallest state of matter after vapor.

The lesson learned is this:  contrary to all the instincts that activate upon becoming a mom or dad introverts must take care of themselves first to be good parents.  99% of the time you’ll be able to put everyone’s needs before yours; it’s that 1%, however, to which you must pay attention to avoid depleting your energy reserves.  Ignore your need to recharge and you might end up like Cougar, out of fuel and panicking as you try to land your jet on the aircraft carrier.   Without anything in your tank things can get scary fast and you may not have it in you to pull up before crashing onto the deck.

How did I pull out of the tailspin?  That’s a subject for another post.

–Tiffany

 

Being an Introvert: How and When?

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We thought it might be interesting to write about when and how we first knew we were introverts and how this realization shaped our personalities. And how we might parent differently as a result.

tiffany_head_128It was Sunday afternoon. Or rather a series of Sunday afternoons when I was a kid.

After my family went to church (if we went. Sorry God!) we would eat lunch and scatter: my dad napped on the couch or read; my mom disappeared to her sewing cave downstairs; and my younger brother played outside, in his room, or – being the extrovert – at someone’s house. There were no lessons, no sports, no nothing except long afternoons and my own imagination.

I would wander up the street to play with friends only if someone forced me. My preference was to be by myself with my toys, dress up clothes, books and other things not requiring human interaction. Naturally there were times when I was bored but some of my best childhood memories are of those unhurried, solitary afternoons. No additional people required.

By junior high I suspected I was different. By high school, I knew I wasn’t like other kids in my class. My parents knew too and were sensitive enough to give me space on weekends to recharge. During the first weeks of college someone called me an introvert. Mr. Webster provided the definition and the cartoon light bulb switched on over my head.

Anyone reading this blog knows it is currently fashionable to be an introvert. This wasn’t always the case. I tried, so hard, for so many years, to deny and subvert it, because it wasn’t cool to stay home on Saturday night or to not go to happy hour three nights a week. Only recently, really recently, have I become ok with saying “This is who I am.”  I think it has something to do with being over 40 and no longer giving a rat’s ass what people think.

Accepting the introvert means acknowledging when my Solitude Tank is running low. It is easier to say “I need to be by myself for a while” rather than morphing into a snappy shrew who’s pissed off at everyone JUST BECAUSE. Small restorative breaks enable me to be a better person which translates into better managing my various roles. I feel guilty, of course, but I feel infinitely worse when I turn into Her Shrewness and treat everyone like shit.

So. How has this affected my parenting? When Princess Slim goes in her room and closes her door, I don’t knock. I try not to arrange Sunday play dates because this time, this having-nothing-to-do time, is critical in a world where everyone is overscheduled. I want her to learn to be alone and to be ok with it. If and when Señor Lunchbox doesn’t require as much supervision (please God, sorry about church again, but please let there be a when) I will do the same. I won’t force them to do stuff they don’t want to do in spite of the incredible pressure to do and join and play.

Will they suffer? I hope not. We can only afford to have one person in therapy at a time and that’s ME, bitches.

— Tiffany

Kathy

I don’t know when I learned the word introvert, but the first time I understood the concept was in ninth grade.

During freshman year I had a group of lively, crazy, silly friends. We passed notes at school, talked for hours on the phone, went to the movies, had sleepovers, and got kicked out of half the stores at the mall for excessive giggling.

In between, I hid out in my room to read, write stories, and memorize all the songs on They Might Be Giants’ Flood album. And I wrote in my journal nearly every day. My favorite topics were how many times That Guy said hi to me in the hall and what everyone was wearing. (I thought I might want to be able to picture how people looked later on. Memo to 9th Grade Me: No. You won’t care. Sorry.) I really do think those spiral notebooks were the key to my sanity, giving me space to sort through the many dramas of fourteen-year-old life.

By the end of the school year, which included back-to-back overnight trips with choir and color guard, I was seriously drained. So I pulled back, but I didn’t have the vocabulary (or, truthfully, the maturity) to say to my friends, “Look, I’m an introvert. Even when it’s super fun, being with people nonstop wears me out. I need some time to recover, but then I will totally be up for going to Boardwalk Fries.”

Instead I kept turning down invitations, which tends to make people think you don’t want to be friends anymore. We never had a huge falling out. But things just weren’t really the same. And after that year, I did protect my downtime more carefully. I kept writing in my journal, too, which continued to be a calm place when things got crazy busy again.

Fast forward to seven years ago when Doodlebug was born. By then I did know the term introvert, but it honestly never crossed my mind that being one would affect my transition into parenting. I had stocked the freezer with six dozen muffins, but I had exactly zero plans for making sure I would get the alone time I needed.

Add in sleep deprivation, nursing issues, and the idea that good moms love spending every minute with their babies, and it was a rough time at first. Some days are still rough. The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, though. Doodlebug can spend hours drawing and writing her own stories. She has decimated my supply of spiral notebooks, but that’s okay. I’ll just keep buying more. For both of us.

— Kathy